Ribstickers
by Kara Crane
Summary: The aftermath of 'The Ultimate Doom'. Spike and Sarah have a talk about the way of the world.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Transformers isn't mine. Sarah is though, and so is 'Ribstickers'!

AN: Just 'cause Sparkplug hardly gets any love. So I decided to give him some.

Sparkplug's stomach rumbled angrily, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since before yesterday's battle with the decepticons and their latest 'scrap-the-autobots' scheme. Said scheme had literally backfired into Megatron's face-plates, Starscream's doing probably. Now he was fighting to keep his eyes open as Jazz drove the two Witwicky's home.

"Sounds like you're running on empty Sparkplug. How's about you wake up Spike an' refuel here?" Came the jaunty suggestion. The jaw-cracking yawn distorted the tired agreement of the exhausted older human as he shook his sleeping son to wakefulness.

Had Sparkplug been a little more awake, a little more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the name of the diner Jazz had parked in front of and insisted that the autobot take them elsewhere. There was a reason he hadn't entered this particular mom and pop diner for almost five years.

Supporting his half-awake son, Sparkplug opened the door sitting beneath the sign proudly proclaiming the name of the eating establishment known locally as 'Ribstickers'.

"As I live and breathe! Sparkplug! Spike!" Exclaimed the full-figured woman with dark brown hair that was going white behind the till before she rushed out and engulfed the two in a hug. "You boys had me scared half to death! Giant robots attackin' the rig! An' now I'm hearin' all sorts of stuff 'bout you two being like ambassadors with 'em! And you couldn't even spare a minute to call and tell me!" The woman gushed as she tightened her embrace and planted a lipstick covered kiss that left it's mark on Spike's forehead. She released a now-very-awake Spike and turned her full attention to his now equally awake father trying to squirm from her firm grip. Here was the reason he hadn't entered Ribstickers in nigh on five years.

"Sarah ...!" Sparkplug exclaimed. "I didn't mean ...! Look, about that ...!"

"You shut up William Irving Witwicky! I held my tongue all those years ago 'cause it just wasn't right, what with you gettin' married and all! I've held it long enough!"

From his parking spot outside, Jazz watched the proceedings with interest. He knew Sparkplug as a solid guy, unfazed by things he'd seen rattle mechs. Now there was this human-femme very obviously rattling his chassis with her very presence. It wasn't until a moment later that the reason for the older man's nervousness became apparent. The femme, pale blue eyes filling with tears, locked lips with the stunned man.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I figure Sparkplug's about 37, so I've made Sarah the same age. Spike, according to the Transformers Wiki is 14. YOB = Year Of Birth

So to recap.

Sparkplug YOB - 1947

Sarah YOB - 1947

Spike YOB - 1970

* * *

Sarah had herded the two Witwicky's into a corner booth and gone into the kitchen to make them 'a proper breakfast', leaving them alone. Elbows propped on the table, Spike grinned at his flustered father; a position he rarely found himself in.

"This explains a lot about why we never came back here. Looks like Sarah's been holding the torch for awhile."

"Now you don't go getting any ideas son. Sarah and I are just friends, that's all." He brought the cup of coffee to his mouth and took a sip of the powerful black brew Sarah made for the truckers that came in at all hours of the night.

"Didn't look that way to me." Came the cheeky reply.

"Look Spike, when a woman gets emotional they stop thinking with their heads. That kiss meant nothing."

"And that's where you're wrong." Sarah's chilly voice broke into the conversation. Spike and Sparkplug looked up guiltily at being caught talking about her behind her back. She placed the plates of eggs, sausage, homefries and pancakes down. "You two eat up. I got Al watching the door and makin' sure you don't sneak out when you're done 'cause you and I got a long overdue talk ahead William." Sparkplug gulped as Sarah stiffly walked back into the kitchen.

The rest of the meal passed in an uncomfortable silence. When the dishes were collected by another waitress Sarah was there with crossed arms and determined eyes. Sparkplug sighed.

"Spike. You head on home, I'll give you a call when I've got everything squared off with Sarah."

"But dad ...!"

"But nothing. This is a private conversation. Go on."

"That was quite a floor show, what was goin' on in there? Who's the femme?" Jazz asked as soon as Spike was in the car, voice brimming with intense curiousity. Spike glanced back before answering.

"Her name is Sarah. She and dad have been close friends since they were kids." His brow furrowed in uncertainty. "I thought they were. They must have had a fight, and it must have been bad because I haven't seen her since I was almost nine." Settling back into the seat he shrugged. "At least they're talking it out. I don't want to have to wait another five years to go back."

"You said it. I think I'd like to meet that smooth femme myself someday." That got a tired chuckle out of Spike.

"Don't worry about that, once they're friends again we'll visit a lot more often. You'll get your chance."

From the upstairs window above the diner sign, Sarah and Sparkplug watched the younger Witwicky leave. Looking extremely uncomfortable, Sparkplug rubbed the back of his neck and broke the awkward silence between them.

"About that night ... there aren't enough words ..." He paused as Sarah held up her hand.

"No, I aughtta be the one apologizin'. You didn't do anythin' I didn't want you to. Fact is Sparky, I was selfish. I let my own desire take the place of common sense an' I was stone-cold sober t'boot. You weren't. I took advantage when you was th' most vulnerable." Came the confession that was a long time in coming. Sarah watched as a multitude of emotions crossed the face of the man that had formerly been her best friend. Most recognisable of them were surprise, relief, wonder, realisation, and finally, rage.

"All these years! I've been wracked with guilt all these years, thinking I did the unthinkable to my best friend when I was hammered! Now you're not only telling me you welcomed it, but you were doing it sober and could've stopped me!" He rocked back on his heels and began to pace like an angry tiger as another realisation dawned. "It all makes sense now, why my wife never wanted you around. She knew. She knew you loved me! Why didn't you ever say anything?! Why didn't she?!"

"Jus' wasn' proper, asking a guy for a date. Just wasn't done. You'd already made your choice an' I had to respect that. Could only hold my tongue an' hope you'd see me there, waitin' for you. Then you married her. Had a son. She probably didn' tell you 'cause she might'a thought if you knew how I felt, she'd lose you." Sarah turned her head to the side, unable to look him in the eyes as she admitted the last two lines. "Don't blame her. I would'a done the same thing."

Groaning, Sparkplug grabbed the chair behind him and plopped into it, face buried in his hands. Sarah followed his example with a sigh, hands folded in her lap, crossed ankles, and face drawn with emotional exhaustion.

"So now what?"

"I don' know Sparky. I'd like us t'stay friends at the very least. An' for the record, I still love you. Allus have." At that, Sparkplug stood up and silently made his way to the door. Once there, he paused and spoke without turning his head.

"I need time, Sarah. This is too big, too much information to take in now." Unseen by Sparkplug, Sarah cast a guilty glance at a different door. "Remembering the role women and girls were expected to play back then, I think I understand a bit better. So I'll be in touch."

And he was gone; leaving Sarah to sigh in relief.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: The aftermath of 'The Ultimate Doom' pt 3.

* * *

Entering the 'human quarters' of the Ark, Spike was witness to his father sitting in an easy chair and stared moodily into a cup of coffee.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"How did you do it Spike?" He asked, out of the blue with a troubled expression.

"Do what?" Spike asked as he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a can of soda.

"Forgive me for hitting you hard enough to send you to the floor. For betraying you, turning my back on you." The silence following was broken only by the sound of the can being opened and Spike's somewhat aggrieved sigh.

"Is that all? Dad, there's nothing to forgive. You were under Dr. Arkeville's control, technically that wasn't you." He plopped onto the soft cushion of the couch and watched his father's face. Instead of relief, Sparkplug's brow furrowed even deeper.

"What if ... what if I'd been drunk? Would you still forgive me?" Sparkplug still hadn't met Spike's eyes, thus he missed the confused look.

"Dad, you don't drink. Even when you did, you never got drunk enough to hit someone."

"Please, this is important. If I was absolutely hammered, not mind-controlled by a maniac working for Megatron, and had still hit you, could you forgive me?" Now his eyes met those of his baffled son, allowing Spike to see the desperate need for answers, for the god-honest truth no matter how harsh it was. Spike swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing.

"I guess it'd be different, because you chose to drink that much; to take away everything that tells you when something is wrong. I would forgive you though, because you're my dad and you'd also choose never to drink like that again." Spike answered bluntly and was rewarded with seeing the stress melt off his fathers' face. Finally smiling, Sparkplug stood up and ruffled Spike's hair.

"You're wise beyond your years kid. That's your mother's influence. Thanks." Sparkplug grinned.

* * *

Ribstickers was still standing, but taped to the inside of the window were notices from the fire department and the City Building Inspector declaring the building unstable and unsafe for habitation.

"Fixin' this's gonna break me." Sarah muttered as the young auburn-haired child in her arms turned his head and stuck his fingers in his mouth. The very large dog at her side looked up and whined. She turned her gaze skyward, to where the planet Cybertron had, until recently, loomed. "Nothin' but trouble, those decepti ...somethin'." Came the irritated grumble. "Thank the Lord for givin' us good neighbours willin' t'put us up 'till the place is fixed." She shook her head and the three of them walked down a sidestreet. A few houses down the child in her arms began to fuss.

"Mama wan' down!" A pause. "Pwease?"

"That's my boy. Allus say 'please' an' 'thank you'."

She put the boy down "T'ank oo mama." but still kept hold of his hand until they were at the door of a simple two-story house and rang the bell.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Anyone who's ever been loved by a large, slobbery dog will empathize with Spike here.

* * *

The blazing mid-day sun beat mercilessly down on Sarah as she hung laundry to dry. Sheets flapped in the slight breeze as, shrieking happily, her son ran around the lawn being chased by their massive dog.

"Stay outta the flowers Matthew, you an' Duke both." She said and watched in satisfaction as both boy and dog turned away from the flower patch.

"Hey Sarah!" Called the familiar voice of Spike. He was leaning on the top of the gate and grinning widely. "For all the trouble you gave dad about not calling, you haven't done much calling yourself." His smile was kind, free of any sort of admonishment. Sarah laughed and waved for him to come into the yard.

"Y'got me dead to rights there Spike. I could've spared a moment or two t'call." Her head whipped to the left. "Duke! No!" She cried, too late. Two hundred and twenty of excited, mastiff cross launched himself at the fourteen year old.

In a feat of agility that visibly stunned the older woman, Spike jumped with legs spread, planted both hands on Duke's box-like head and vaulted over the barrelling beast. A manoeuver that had spared him Ravages' claws a fair number of times.

He stuck the landing like a pro, leaving his audience of two with slack jaws and round eyes.

"Ta da!"

"Good heavens Spike, where did you ... how ...?" Sarah stammered. Matthew cheered.

"Neato! Do it again! Do it again!"

Duke, surprised but unharmed, got to his feet and tried again. This time with more success. Spike was knocked onto his front and the two huge front paws held him down at the shoulders while Duke slobbered, drooled and _licked everywhere_ his long, equally wet tongue could reach.

Including the inside of Spike's ears. His hair fell flat as every follicle was drowned in drool. The back of his neck took on a suspicious, slimy sheen as the frothy saliva slid down around his neck and pooled on the ground beneath his throat.

"Eeeeeyuuuugh! Get him off!" He cried, unwilling to kick his legs and injure the overly-friendly dog.

"Duke! Git!" She ordered firmly with a sweeping finger. The dog obeyed immediately.

Spike lay there a moment before declaring "I think I have a new most-gross moment of my life." Sarah chuckled and hauled him to his feet.

"Kinda like th' ultimate wet willy. He don' mean any harm, he loves people."

His face grimaced in disgust as his fingers ran through drool-drenched strands of hair. "Raw, apparently."

There was a pause before Sarah guffawed. "Raw! That's a good one, I gotta remember that." She bent down and picked up another damp shirt from the basket. "Now why don't you give me a hand and we can talk 'bout the real reason you're here."

"How did you ...?"

"I'm a woman and a mother. Y'need to ask?"

Spike chuckled ruefully and stepped back to allow Matthew and Duke run by. "Guess not." He handed her a wooden clothespin. "When are you going to get the diner fixed? If it's money ..."

Sarah interrupted him before he could take that thought any further.

"S'not a matter of money. Just waitin'. Every contractor and handyman in the state is booked solid for the next couple'a months." He voice spoke volumes about how frustrated she was about it. But that she said nothing negative about it conveyed her understanding of the situation.

"Wow ... all of them? For months?" He repeated as he absorbed this tidbit of information about life outside the Autobot base. It was news to him. Sarah gave him an 'I can't believe I have to tell you this' look.

"Spike, this city, this country, this _world _is stuck smack-dab in th' middle of a war between _Giant. Alien. Automatons._ Any business owner with a wad o'cash and a lick o'sense put a contracting company on retainer. Every one else gets put on a list and has to wait their turn."

When Sarah turned her back to continue hanging the laundry he cast an almost guilty glance over his shoulder to the yellow VW Beetle sitting in front of the house.


End file.
